Phone call
by Tez
Summary: Harm has a chat with his mom...and Mac happens to listen in. (HM)


Disclaimer: If I owned JAG, Mac and Harm would be married with 2.3 kids and a big house with a white picket fence, and everyone who had any part in writing Season 9 so far would be strung up by their toes in my front yard. 

A/N: Sorry about the lack of updates; I'm a slave to midterms and independent study proposals this month. I'll be back after next Thursday, hopefully. 

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            I walk quickly, trying to keep up with the major. She's in as much of a hurry as she always is. I truly believe she has two speeds: really, really fast and asleep. She's certainly in fast mode right now, spouting off facts about the Brewer Article 32 hearing as we make a beeline for Commander Rabb's office to offer him our new deal for Brewer. I like working with the major – she's my favorite of all the JAG lawyers. I think I've learned the most from her about being a lawyer and an officer while I've been here. However, when she gets moving she's hard to keep up with.

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            "With all of the evidence we have against this kid, he's lucky to be getting the three-month loss of pay and extra duty assignment. I mean, we could take this to court-martial and get him tossed out of the Navy, but I really think he's just a good kid who screwed up once. This'll give him a chance to prove he really does want to be here." 

            We stop in front of Harm's office. His door is ajar, and I think nothing of pushing it open slightly further to stick my head around the corner. I bite back the greeting I'm about to call out when I realize he's on the phone. His back is turned toward the door, which means I get a fabulous view of one of my favorite reasons for the Navy to wear those summer whites. Of course, Harm looks great in all of the uniforms, especially the dress whites. The white ones just hold a special place in my heart, I guess.

            "He's on the phone," I whisper to Bud, who nods sagely and tries to look like his head isn't still spinning from all the information I just tossed him about Brewer. I know I have a tendency to give facts quickly, but I've got faith he'll have it all assimilated in the next few minutes, and that gives me the opportunity to admire my flyboy from around the corner for a little longer. I have every intention of announcing my presence as soon as he's done with his call. That intention changes, however, when I hear his next sentence. 

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            I roll my eyes, resisting the urge to fly to California and shake some sense into the crazy woman I call my mother. 

            "Of course I love her, Mom. I've been telling you that for years." She makes some snide comment about sons keeping secrets from their mothers, and I give the windowsill an impatient glare I know she can't see. "Since Arizona, Mom. No, it's got nothing to do with Diane. I mean, sure, at first it was weird, but even then I knew there was something about her. And then I kissed her, and she thought I was kissing Diane." I snort, not sure if I'm amused by my dense partner or annoyed with myself for letting her believe it.

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            My hand freezes on the doorframe. I know this is wrong, but I couldn't stop listening now if my life depended on it. Is he talking about me? No, I have to be reading this wrong. I'm the one in love with my hopelessly oblivious partner, not the other way around. 

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            I sigh, drumming my fingers on the desk behind me as I perch on the edge. This conversation is far from over, I know. Next she's going to read me the riot act about how I should treat the woman I'm looking to marry one day. My repeated explanations that a proposal would land me in traction don't seem to sink in with her.

            "Yeah, I was kissing Mac. I'd do it again if I wasn't sure she'd knock me through a wall for it. I let her think she was right so I wouldn't have to explain myself." I fall silent again as my mother explains to me exactly why this was a Really Dumb Stunt. Most of my Really Dumb Stunts have involved flying in some way, from my first almost-disastrous landing in my just-restored bi-plane to the time I jumped off the porch roof to see if I even needed a plane in order to fly. Apparently, there are other parts of my life where my affinity for these stunts has decided to show itself.

            "Mom! I know it was a lousy thing to do. Stop beating me up over it, would you? I've beaten myself up enough. I know it's wrong, but I can't tell her how I feel about her." Why? Oh, come on, Mom, stupid question. Don't ask me why. I hate talking about it. I hate thinking about it. Because she doesn't love me back, that's why. I can't voice this, though, even if it is the truth. I can't stand to hear it. So I think up something else to tell my mother.

            "Why? It'll get me transferred at best and my nose broken and the rest of me brought up on harassment charges at worst. Besides, how am I supposed to tell her, anyway? 'Hey, Mac, thanks for that deal you cut my client this morning, and by the way I'm hopelessly in love with you, how would you feel about running away with me?' I just can't see that working." No matter how much I want it to or how many times I fantasize that it does, but I don't tell her that. I'll keep some of my embarrassment over my obsession with my partner to myself, thank you.

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            My chest tightens when I hear him say he loves me, and for a moment I think I've forgotten how to breathe. Next to me, Bud is the color of his summer whites, and he probably thinks I'm about to kill my partner. He's about to get a surprise. Sucking in a deep breath, I remind myself that I'm a Marine and I can handle this, even if it is going to be the most important conversation of my life. I swing the door open all the way and step into Harm's office.

            "I don't know. I think it's a good beginning."

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            At first, I think I've hallucinated her voice behind me. Mac's not in the office this morning, she's in court. And she can't have said what I think she just said, because if she did then I'm a dead man. I slide off my desk and turn slowly, my hold on the phone changing to a death grip when I see her in the doorway, looking like the proverbial cat with feathers in its whiskers. I say something to my mother – I'm not sure what – and hang the phone back on the cradle. For a moment we just stare at each other, and eventually I have to break the silence. I have to know what she heard.

            "How long were you standing there?"

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            I reach behind me and close the door blindly, aware on some level that poor Bud's going to miss the show, but needing to be able to give this man a piece of my mind without worrying about who else in the bullpen might hear me. Or the whole bullpen hearing me, for that matter.

            "Since 'of course I love her', although the part that really got my attention was the 'years' part." Not waiting for him to respond, I get into my rant. I'm going to let my blind, crazy, wonderful partner have everything he's got coming to him, and that starts with a really scathing lecture about his secrecy. I think he's going to enjoy what it ends with a little more, but you have to start at the beginning and I'm itching to lay into him about this.

            "Years, Harm? Years? You've been in l...love with me for years, and you never said anything?" I'm not proud of my stutter when I hit the word 'love', but at least I get the word out. "I can't believe you. And that kiss on the dock?"

            I nearly lose my resolve at the look on my poor flyboy's face; it's half pout, half pure heartbreak, and my desire to pull him close and kiss him senseless is barely beaten down by my need to make him eat this a little while longer. After the agony of waiting, of spending so long in love with him in self-sacrificing silence, I want him to feel a little of it.

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            I resist the urge to shout back at her, although it's difficult. I also resist the much stronger urge to sit down on the floor and cry because she doesn't love me back, and the overwhelming desire to throw her down on my desk and have my way with her. She's really sexy when she's mad, even when she's breaking my heart.

            "Mac, I never meant to hurt you. I just couldn't tell you how I – how I felt about you."

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            Here it is. Victory is about to be mine.   

            "And how exactly is that, Harm?"

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            This is misery. She heard me tell my mom; why is she torturing me like this?

            "You heard me say it."

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            Stubborn squid.

            "Say it again."

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            I sigh. I've lost this battle. It doesn't matter, though; she's going to kill me either way. Maybe she'll be more lenient if I do what she says.

            "I'm in love with you."

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            At last, we're getting somewhere. I think he's suffered enough for one day. Besides, I know I'm fast losing the battle to take him right here on his desk, so I should probably stop torturing him.

            "Don't call me that."

            "What?"

            I step toward him until we're so close I can feel the heat radiating off of him, tilting my head up to look him squarely in the eye.

            "My name is Sarah," I correct, and then I pull his head down to mine, kissing him with all the passion I've stored up over the last three years.

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            She's kissing me. My God, I told her how I felt and she's kissing me. This is...this is...as amazing as I knew it would be. Her tongue teases mine and I crush her against me, desperate for every inch of her. Wait, this isn't right. She was yelling at me a minute ago...it's too hard to concentrate with her mouth on mine, her nimble fingers tracing patterns on the back of my neck. I pull back, barely coherent, and stare at her as she smiles.

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            "I love you too, Harm."

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            Five words and my whole world is perfect. I can't believe it. I'm trying to wrap my mind around the idea that she loves me back, and then she kisses me again and my body takes the opportunity to kick my mind out of the equation, spinning the both of us around and swinging her up onto my desk. The morning's worth of files is now on the floor, but I could care less. Sarah Mackenzie is sitting on my desk, giving me the come-hither look I've seen in my fantasies a thousand times. Forget the Brewer hearing, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. And from what I can see in her eyes, it might not be just once in my lifetime. Hallelujah.

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End file.
